Those Who Love Us
by justanothermuggle
Summary: Harry and Ginny do a bit of exploring.


_A/N: justanothermuggle and siledubhghlase/ghostchicken are in the process of writing a 19-year saga, covering the time between the Battle of Hogwarts and the DH Epilogue. Each story will end with an Epilogue of its own, intended to tell a bit about the lives of Harry and his friends beyond 2017._

_This one-shot is what we intend to be the last Epilogue of the last story—or at least part of it—but since that's so far down the road, we decided to share it with you all now. It's a good idea for you newer readers to know the following 0before you read this: 1) Harry and Ginny share a deep bond which has bound their entire lives—hearts, minds, bodies, souls and magical cores—together as one, and 2) Harry and Ginny have built a home near the Burrow, calling it "Ionúin Bhaille."_

**Those Who Love Us**

"Are you coming to bed, Harry," Ginny asked wearily, plaiting her hair into a braid that hung over her left shoulder.

"How could I resist the request of a beautiful witch," Harry grinned. "I've one chapter left in this rather fascinating book and I'll be along."

Ginny huffed loudly. "You need your eyesight checked again. It's been what? Over 130 years since I was on that ridiculous Most-Beautiful-Witch list. And what is so fascinating about a book written about _you?_ You know what happens!"

Harry smiled nostalgically as he took in the vision of his wife in her flannel nightgown. Although her flaming red hair had faded to silvery white and her face gracefully bore the lines and wrinkles that came with increasing age and wisdom, in his eyes, she was still the most beautiful witch on the planet.

Closing his book with a bit of a chuckle—authors still wrote about him and his adventures with a degree of exaggeration—Harry stood from his easy chair by the fire in their bedchamber. For a wizard of well over 150 years old, he could still move with a surprising degree of agility. It was funny to him that he should remain so agile, since Ron had always been the real athlete. But due to his accident so many years before, he ended up dependent on a cane or a staff to move around in his later years.

He slipped between the sheets that covered their old oak bed. Ginny had commissioned an artisan to carve it for their 50th Anniversary. It depicted a stag and a doe intertwined in an eternal embrace, guarded by a Phoenix. That had been nearly 90 years ago. It still amazed him how new and pristine it still looked. _Ah, well. Ginny was always good with Charms_.

He gingerly removed his half-moon spectacles—a tribute to his old friend and mentor, Albus Dumbledore—and snuggled in, cuddling up to his wife. His emerald eyes still shone brightly and had even accrued a bit of the twinkle that had been so prevalent in Albus' blue ones. He gazed lovingly into Ginny's warm chocolate-brown eyes and they opened up their bond fully. Harry sent waves of his undying love for his wife and Ginny embraced his mind with hers.

Merged and entangled in mind, body and soul, they soon pictured the pond at the Burrow in their minds and took their places under their favourite tree. "I've always loved it here," Harry said. "Ionúin Bhaille, and Hogwarts after I became Headmaster, had been our homes over the years, but the Burrow's pond will still be our very special place."

"It is, Harry," Ginny agreed, stroking her hand over her husband's cheek. "All of the children learned to swim here, beginning with the seven of us Weasley kids."

"I learned to swim here, too, Gin," Harry reminded her. "Remember how afraid of the water I was?"

"You didn't seem so afraid of it for the second task," Ginny teased.

"That wasn't me, that was Gillyweed and you know it," Harry teased back. "I'd have drowned the moment I dove into that damnable lake. It's so bloody cold—how do the Merfolk stand it?"

"They're cold-blooded," she replied and then nudged him with her elbow. "But you knew that, you ridiculous old goat." Ginny turned her gaze across the pond toward Ionúin Bhaille. She noticed something she knew had never been there before or ever. With an inquisitive look, she turned to her husband again. "Harry, what's that path around the pond," she asked. "And when did that appear?"

Harry followed her pointing finger and sure enough, there it was. "I didn't put it there. Did you," Harry asked.

"No, not that I'm aware of," Ginny replied. "Maybe the children created it with all their exploring over the years and we just never paid any attention to it."

"Well then, let's see where it leads," Harry said, rising to his feet. "I feel like we need to explore that path."

Ginny looked at Harry for a few moments and then took his proffered hand, helping her to stand. She had been quite the athlete in her day, but her career playing with the Harpies, however short it was, coupled with years of child-rearing, teaching flying and coaching Quidditch at Hogwarts with Ron, and life in general took its toll on her old bones and they tended to creak and complain sometimes. "Yes, oddly enough. I do too."

The old couple joined hands and walked down the path around the pond. It was a beautiful spring day with flowers bursting into full bloom and birds chirping and twittering all around them, and with each step, they felt a little more invigorated. Harry and Ginny realised immediately that this was actually a new path, never walked on before in their lives, and it intrigued them.

They had walked quite a while just enjoying the beauty of a Devon spring day, when they heard a rather familiar hooting above the songs of the other birds in the trees. They looked around but couldn't see any owl flying about. They kept walking as the path followed the stream leading away from the pond. They assumed it must flow into the Otter at some point, but didn't remember it ever having been there before either. Soon they reached a bridge where a robed man Harry found vaguely familiar stood, a warm smile crossing his lips.

"Harry Potter," the man greeted them with a friendly voice and an outstretched hand. "And of course, the lovely Ginny. How good to see you."

"Excuse me for asking, but who are you," Harry asked, nonplussed. "I recognize you, but I can't place you."

The man nodded slowly. "We met only briefly many years ago, Harry. The year was 1998, I believe," he said thoughtfully.

Harry was a bit confused and then they heard the owl hoot again. Harry knew that hoot from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it. He put his arm around Ginny and suddenly gasped as the pieces fell into place. "Hedwig," he murmured.

At this the snowy owl swooped down, seemingly from nowhere, and landed on his shoulder. Lovingly, she nibbled on his ear and rubbed her face against his. Harry gazed at the bird, and slowly nodded as if he was convincing himself of something.

"Harry, what is this? What's going on," Ginny asked. It had been so many years since Harry had brooded over the dead in the Second Wizarding War and she couldn't understand how or why Hedwig would show up now.

Harry stroke his hand over Hedwig's back and looked into Ginny's eyes. "Gin, I believe I know who this man is and where the bridge leads."

Behind them the sun began to set, but it was still a warm evening, despite the fact that it seemed to be rather early in the spring. In fact, the entire situation seemed almost unearthly. Harry turned to the man and addressed him calmly. "You're Death, aren't you," he said, identifying their greeter. "And this bridge leads to the next great adventure."

Death nodded.

"Harry, are we dying," Ginny asked, not fearfully, but more in a matter-of-factly way she'd picked up from Hermione.

He turned around and looked down the path they had taken from the pond. It disappeared into the dusk. "I believe we already did, Love. There's no way back. It's time to cross the bridge," Harry said.

Death nodded again. "I'm not fond of being cheated," Death said with a smirk. "In fact, only you, Harry, and one of your ancestors ever managed to pull that off. But I hold no grudge and welcome you and your lovely wife now."

Ginny looked at Death. "I didn't notice a thing," she said clearly surprised about realizing she was dead.

Harry chuckled. "Sirius told me that dying is easier than falling asleep," Harry recalled. "Come on, Ginny. Gryffindors forward, as they say."

The two of them stepped onto the bridge and made their way across it, hand in hand and heart to heart. Hedwig hooted and took off from Harry's shoulder to fly above and before them, swooping and hooting happily. Ginny took another close look at the orange sky in front of them. "Harry, that's not a sunset; that's a sun_rise_," she exclaimed with awe as they followed the beautiful snowy owl's lead.

Harry looked again and found that she was right. With each step, it seemed the sun rose higher in the sky. As soon as they crossed the bridge to the other side, the sun had reached its zenith, bathing a brilliant blue sky in its warmth as a warm breeze caressed their faces. At the same time, Harry and Ginny noticed that their hair had regained the colours of their youth: raven black and flaming red, respectively. Physically, they'd regained all the strength and vitality of their prime.

As they studied one another's rejuvenated appearance, Ginny gasped and lightly touched her fingers to Harry's forehead. "Harry," she whispered tearfully. "Your scar—it's…it's gone!"

Harry instinctively passed his fingers over the place his scar had been for as long as he could remember. It had faded greatly over the years and hadn't bothered him since the defeat of Voldemort, but it was still visible if one knew what to look for and where to find it. "Gin, you're right. I can't feel it anymore! I'm…I'm whole." He quickly opened his robes and rolled up his sleeves to inspect his chest and arms. Sure enough, all the scars he'd accumulated throughout his troubled childhood, the war, and his career as an Auror.

"Smooth as our great-grandbabies' bottoms," Ginny giggled, running her hands over his chest and up and down his arms. "If not a bit furrier."

With a grin and a leer, he leaned down to capture his wife's soft full lips in a searing kiss, one reminiscent of the mind-blowers he used to give her when their love was new. He held her close and breathed in her intoxicating scent—strawberries and wildflowers—but his reverie was interrupted by the cry of his beloved owl once again. "I believe Hedwig has flown on to announce our arrival," he smiled, kissing Ginny fully and passionately on her mouth again.

Now arm-in-arm, Harry and Ginny followed the path that continued on from the bridge and down a soft grassy hill. To their surprise, they found themselves right back at the Burrow. The garden and orchard stood in full bloom, the voices of what must have been dozens of people buzzing among the treetops, while Hedwig hooted and danced on the breeze overhead. As one, the assembly ceased their chatter and looked up at the new arrivals, smiling brightly because Harry and Ginny had come home at last.

Hand in hand, the couple entered the garden, returning the smiles of those who'd crossed over before them—people they'd cherished throughout their lives. They were nearly knocked to the ground as Ron and Hermione threw themselves on necks in a warm group hug. "We've been waiting for you, you know," Hermione said, tears filling her cinnamon eyes while her wild curls blew around her lightly-tanned face. Ron held her from behind. _He never could leave his hands off her_. "But we'll have all the time we want to talk, now that you're finally here."

"Yeah, Mum's in the kitchen preparing a feast," Ron grinned. _Always the chow-hound_. "C'mon, there are a couple of people I think you'll want to see," Ron laughed.

On any plane of existence, Molly Weasley would obviously never change. Harry and Ginny watched joyfully as their friends and family set tables and carried dishes full of every food imaginable, including Harry's favourites—shepherd's pie and treacle tart. Fred and George huddled in the background rigging some specially-prepared fireworks, eagerly assisted by Gideon and Fabian. The resemblance between the two sets of twins was uncanny.

Under a favourite copse of trees, Seamus had a group of friends, including Cedric Diggory, riveted and in stitches with his tales of the adventures of Harry's Hellions, as the first class of cadets that graduated from the new Auror Academy came to be known. Under Harry's command, Seamus Finnegan and Cho Chang had led the Forces of Light into countless battles from which they had emerged unfailingly victorious, striking fear in the hearts of those who would oppose them. By the time they'd all retired, that particular class had been the most-decorated unit in British military history, Muggle or Magical.

Dobby and Kreacher had been placed in charge of arranging the tables. Harry thought he spotted Severus Snape in the background, but before he was sure or the Potters could pitch in to help, Ron and Hermione led Harry and Ginny into the kitchen. Here, Harry stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed with emotion as tears formed in his sparkling green eyes.

Molly stood by the stove stirring some sauce or another while Arthur rooted about in the special cabinet that traditionally housed Old Ogden's Finest. "Mum! Dad," Harry and Ginny cried together. Molly dropped what she was doing and bustled over to them, nearly crushing them in her famous—or infamous—hug. Arthur put his hands on their shoulders and winked at his wife. "We've missed you two so much."

"We've been waiting for you right here all along. We weren't going anywhere without you," Molly cooed. "But I think there are a few other people who are most eager to see you."

Molly pointed at the scrubbed oak table. By now Harry was crying openly and unashamedly. Around the table sat Albus Dumbledore, Hagrid, Remus, Sirius and... Harry's eyes fixed on a red-haired witch with green eyes like his own and a man who could be his mirror image, but for the eyes. Memories of his infancy flooded his mind as if no time at all had ever passed. Choking back a sob, all Harry could say was, "Mummy? Daddy?"

"Harry, my sweet baby boy," Lily whispered, ensconcing him in all the love and devotion only a mother could convey. "I can't tell you how proud you've made your father and me. We're so very happy to finally meet you again."

"Well done, son," James beamed. "We never doubted for a minute that you'd fulfill your destiny. You've outdone yourself, old man!"

"Th-thanks," Harry stammered, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Ginny sent a wave of love and pride through their bond, designed to calm her husband and allow him to collect himself.

James and Lily looked to Molly and Arthur, who only nodded as if to confirm an unasked question. "Well then, young man. Aren't you going to introduce us to this lovely girl at your side?" Lily fussed with her son's collar and studied his handsome face as if seeking some stray bit of dirt to wipe away.

Harry took Ginny's hand. "Mum, Dad, this is Ginny, my wife."

"Arthur, you weren't exaggerating," James crowed. "She's everything you told us and more. Welcome to the family, my dear." He executed a perfect Pureblood bow and kissed his daughter-in-law's hand. Lily rolled her eyes while Remus shook his head and smirked wolfishly.

"He's a real smoothie, Prongs is," Sirius snorted.

"Flirting with a mere child. Have you no shame, Potter," Remus chuckled.

"Not a single iota," James replied proudly. "At least I know what to do with beauty when I see it, unlike you two gits."

"Men," Lily huffed. "Will they ever grow up?"

"No," three voices replied, each belonging to Molly, Ginny, and Tonks, who had just entered the kitchen from the back garden. Albus' eyes twinkled as he sat sipping his tea. It had been many a long year since he'd seen such unbridled joy among these fine people.

"All right, all right, you tossers. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other, but from what we've heard, Harry couldn't have married a finer witch," James said, taking his son and daughter-in-law in a strong three-way embrace. "Quidditch star for Holyhead _and_England, journalist, teacher, wife, mother and grandmother to several generations of Potter sprogs, and an all-around arse-kicker. Ah, yes—a fine witch, indeed."

"James Potter, that's enough," Lily chided good-naturedly. "You're embarrassing the poor child."

"_My_ Ginny? Embarrassed," Molly giggled. "Not a chance."

Ginny blushed scarlet as her hair as Sirius and Remus joined the Potters in a group hug. Hagrid dried a tear from his eyes while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Welcome home, dear boy. Welcome home," the now not-so-old professor exclaimed, raising a glass to his erstwhile protégé. "And to you, Miss Weas—Mrs Potter."

"Me 'n' Fang's sure glad ter see yer," Hagrid blubbered into his tablecloth-size handkerchief. "'S like ol' times again!"

"Thank you, sir. Hagrid, it just wasn't Hogwarts without you," Harry replied while Ginny gave their beloved old headmaster and CoMC professor each a warm hug. Soon, Ron and Hermione herded them back outside to the garden to join in the fun.

At the very same moment, in a massive bed in a house known as Ionúin Bhaille in the county of Devon, an old couple lay cradled in death, gazing into one another's glazed and unseeing, but loving eyes. Both faces held peaceful expressions graced with gentle smiles.

In the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts a new portrait appeared on the wall to the right of the ancient desk used by Headmasters and Headmistresses dating back to Dilys Derwent in the mid-eighteenth century. As a former and much-beloved headmaster, it was only fitting that Harry would be immortalized in a magical portrait just like his predecessors, but his was a first of its kind. Next to him, seated in a comfortable-looking loveseat, Ginny appeared with her head resting on Harry's shoulder, both images fast asleep. It could be no other way, as she was as much a part of Harry as he was of her and not even death or traditional portraiture could separate them.

Harry and Ginevra Potter would be mourned by friends and family as well as countless wizards and witches who would remember them as the most powerful wizard and witch in history and as the best headmaster and flying mistress Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever seen. Their legend would be compared only with that of Merlin. But as they mourned and grieved for their passing, those who knew them personally took comfort in something Harry and Ginny had taught them from their youth: _Those who love us never truly leave us._


End file.
